


Admit It

by kinaesthetique



Series: Take to the Skies [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bird Wings, Dominant Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Embarassment, F/F, Foreplay, Light Dom/sub, Light Scolding, Praise Kink, Sex Talk, Submissive Fareeha "Pharah" Amari, Teasing, Wing Kink, because angela is on to you, can't catch me gay wing kink thoughts - fareeha for the last several weeks probably, did kina finally suck it up and post some soft smut? perhaps, it took a lot of poking but im happy with it, satya and genji are not involved but they do pop into the second chapter, soft smut, you can run but you can't hide forever fareeha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24279955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinaesthetique/pseuds/kinaesthetique
Summary: Fareeha has long since discovered a kink she didn't even know she had. She’s kept it quiet, hoping her fiancée wouldn’t notice.Tonight, Angela finally decides to call her out on it.Of course, Fareeha can back out any time she wants, but they both know she doesn't want that.
Relationships: Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Genji Shimada & Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani & Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Series: Take to the Skies [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/727083
Comments: 23
Kudos: 87





	1. in medias res

**Author's Note:**

> I mean... you probably could read this as a standalone from TttS as a whole, but you'd miss a couple of references. This is a spicier, spiritual successor to the Mantling section of Downy Days 15. Therefore, this takes place between All the Downy Days and Toward Hidden Horizons.
> 
> I would like to extend a warm thank you to [ LuckyLadyLily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyLadyLily/pseuds/LuckyLadyLily) for her invaluable help and encouragement!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha knew Angela was planning something.  
> She just wasn't quite sure what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know when you want something spicy but you add ginger instead of a habanero? This is that. It's just spicy foreplay, which is brave for me.

When Angela finished her work early and sent a reminder of the time, place, and safe word via text, Fareeha was only partially sure of what to anticipate. That wasn’t unusual or unexpected; they’d planned on it after all. As she places a hand on the palm reader for her room, Fareeha tries not to roll her eyes at the fact that her life is so busy that she has to schedule sex with her fiancée.

Would she enjoy this? Absolutely.

What was _this_ exactly? Well, the surprise was part of the fun, wasn't it?

When Fareeha steps into her bedroom, she does not expect Angela to look like _that_.

To say she felt as if struck by lightning was an understatement; she knows what that feels like. This is a bowling ball to the gut. This is a trident to the chest. This is worse than unfair. 

This is _calculated_.

With her back to Fareeha, Angela lounges on the edge of their bed, perched on the line between the room's lit and shadowed halves. The overhead light is off. Instead, lamplight and candles illuminate her wings from behind and cast Angela's shadow into the doorway. Her layered feathers glow with soft, golden light befitting of a sunset: pale cream to mellow daffodil to rich saffron. 

Even while loosely folded to rest on the bed, the size of her wings is impossible to misinterpret. Angela's feathers fluff up briefly and resettle with a gentle shake of her wings, filling the room with a soft, musical rustling. It's the only noise in the room aside from the thrumming of the fan, but it echoes and lingers all the same.

More impressively, except for her longest primaries bending against the floor, not a single feather is out of place. From the square-tipped secondaries to the long tapering primaries to the shorter coverts and alula lining the edge of her radiant wings, the feathers align neatly; without any missing or damaged feathers to mar the effect, it's a rare convergence of perfection. 

The ceiling fan ruffles her scapulars, revealing the tense line of muscles that support Angela's back— muscles that show no sign of trembling despite the display. In the overwhelming presence of the wings and their owner, all else is inconsequential.

_Oh god._

It's only been a moment, but Fareeha's mouth is already dry as the Sahara. Even if she could speak, there's nothing she could say. Angela tosses her hair over her shoulder in one smooth motion. She shifts, extending her right wing along her outstretched legs. The motion is mesmerizing. The feathers glide silently along her bare skin as the wing stretches out, a paragon of gentle, barely-restrained power. 

A split-second later, Fareeha's brain catches her looking and scolds her mercilessly. Flustered, she quickly looks away from the wing, only to meet Angela's keen gaze. 

As the bedroom door slides shut, Angela smiles. 

Fareeha doesn't dare move, frozen in place and guilty as sin.

_She knows._

“Be honest, Fareeha," Angela instructs in a dangerous purr.

_I am… so screwed._

Fareeha swallows hard, already nervous. That is _not_ a directive to disobey but Angela always follows that order with difficult questions.

Angela spreads her left wing to mirror the other, easily out-spanning the width of their bed. Even now she doesn't turn around; Fareeha only has two options: look her in the eye or look at her wings. Angela's coy smile contributes to the rising heat in Fareeha’s cheeks but Fareeha’s attention is nearly consumed by Angela’s enormous wings. The lighting, the pose, her casual, languid movements- every part of this display draws attention to her wonderful wings.

"You _like_ these, don't you?"

_Stay calm._

"Of course I do, Ange." Fareeha takes her shoes off, shrugs out of her jacket, and turns to hang it on the closet door's hook in an effort to hide her struggling expression from Angela. "They're part of y- _eep!_ "

While her back was turned, Angela crept up behind her. Fareeha startles, thrown off balance by how close she is. Angela takes the opportunity to hook her fingers into the belt loops of Fareeha's jeans and pulls her in even closer. She can feel her heart stutter as Angela closes the space between them, pressing up against Fareeha's thin ribbed tank.

"I said, _be honest,_ " Angela reminds her, locking eyes with Fareeha with an intense, unwavering gaze.

"Of course. I am." Fareeha blinks, smiling weakly down at her girlfriend, so short but projecting confidence and control. Fareeha can feel her heart thumping frantically as she wishes for nothing more than a moment to kick her jeans off; judging by Angela’s unyielding grip, she has every intention of denying Fareeha that freedom. 

"I like them a lot, okay?" 

_More than is probably normal…_

Angela bites her lip, quirking one corner of her lip in a mischievous smile. Without warning, she sweeps her wings forward, pinning Fareeha to the closet door.

 _“Fuck,”_ Fareeha gasps, the curse spilling from her lips before she realizes her mouth is even open.

"Isn't it nice that I don't have to use my hands to keep you where I want you?"

Angela slides her hands onto Fareeha's hips and nudges her down until she can reach Fareeha's lips in a searing kiss.

Fareeha melts into it, moaning when Angela slips her tongue past her lips. When she pulls away, Fareeha follows, nearly tripping over her discarded shoes. Angela keeps her grip on Fareeha's hips, forcing her to walk at Angela's pace and not a step any faster.

 _"Ange!"_ Fareeha gasps when she trails her wings over her bare arms. The motion sends a delightful shiver through her body. 

"Full name, darling." Her fiancée pulls and spins them so the bed is behind Fareeha.

 _"Angela, please-_ "

"Didn't say you could beg," Angela tuts, pushing Fareeha onto the bed. Fareeha sits down hard as the back of her knees hit the mattress edge. Angela remains standing, looming over her. "I told you to be honest. You still haven't _quite_ done that."

"I'm so sorry, but-"

Angela places a single finger on Fareeha's lips and flicks her wings— a known sign of displeasure. She fans them once, stirring the cool air in the room, and folds them.

 _Fucked_ that _up._

"Tempering your apology with caveats? Fareeha. Sweetheart." Angela trails her hands down Fareeha's chest. "You _must_ realize how much trouble you're in. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"Angela, you cannot _blame_ me for being _embarrassed-"_

"Embarrassed to love every part of me?" Angela pouts, big blue eyes wide with faux innocence. "Embarrassed to want me as I am?"

Fareeha rolls her eyes. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"I don't appreciate your attitude, Fareeha," Angela growls. She flares her wings, displaying in full glory. Fareeha squeaks in alarm, unable to tear her gaze away from the motion.

"I'm sorry, Angela," Fareeha says quickly, trying to sound apologetic and not helplessly aroused. Judging by Angela's smirk, she doesn't quite manage that. "It's hard to think properly right now."

"Oh, _poor_ _darling_." Calmed, Angela folds her wings once more. "Maybe I should just tell you what I wanted to hear?"

Flushing, Fareeha nods.

Angela sighs. "Emphasis on _hear-"_

_Goddammit!_

_"_ Say it after me then. Angela, your wings turn me on."

Fareeha grits her teeth and smiles stiffly, nearly light-headed with embarrassment. "Angela… your wings turn me on."

 _"And_ I apologize for not telling you sooner."

"And I apologize for- _eek!"_ Fareeha shrieks as Angela mercilessly sinks her fingers into the soft flesh just above her waistband. It's a short burst of pressure, just a warning. Nonetheless, Fareeha tries to scramble backward but Angela quickly brings her wings around them, cutting off her escape. 

"That didn't sound sincere. Try again."

Despite everything that's already happened, Fareeha squeezes her thighs tight, as if she could hide how much wetter this predicament makes her. Angela strokes the skin beneath her tank top and teases just underneath her bra, even as she climbs onto Fareeha's lap and shoves her legs apart with a well-placed knee. 

Angela doesn't quite touch her. The space between her knee and Fareeha's aching desire is electric, filled with the too-close promise of relief. It's everything Fareeha can do not to whimper and beg to be allowed to grind on her, to come apart at the seams even still in her jeans and encased in the white-hot heat of Angela's wings. 

"Angela, please," Fareeha gasps, eyes squeezed shut as she narrowly avoids begging anyway. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't know _how._ It's such a stupid kink to have!"

"Perhaps it would be stupid _if_ you weren't dating the one person on the planet with wings?"

_Fair point._

Fareeha groans and looks to the ceiling. Chuckling, Angela strokes her way back down to the waistband of Fareeha's jeans.

She's expecting Angela to do something saucy, but when she palms Fareeha through her jeans, it's all she can do to choke back a cry of relief. It comes out as a pathetic whimper instead.

"Oh darling, what have I _done_ to you?"

"Your wings, Ange- Angela," Fareeha stutters as Angela presses down, tracing over the seam of her jeans, chasing the suggestion of her slit through the layers of fabric. It takes every drop of concentration to remember her wording. "They turn me on. I don't know why. I- _fuck."_

"In a little while," Angela purrs, as she runs her free hand through Fareeha's hair, scratching lightly at her scalp.

Fareeha sucks in a shallow breath. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything-"

"You didn't have to. I told you— I noticed." Angela pulls her hand away from Fareeha's jeans and pets Fareeha's lips. "And I forgive you."

 _God,_ she can smell her own arousal on her fingers.

"Panting and moaning." Angela shakes her head as she resettles her wings at her back once more. "I haven't even touched you yet."

"Please, Angela, please," Fareeha whispers, face hot with shame. _This was supposed to be a secret._ "I can't take this."

"Still haven't allowed you to beg," Angela says with a wicked smile and shifts until she's sitting sideways in Fareeha's lap, forcing her to hold her. Fareeha's arm brushes against the outer tertiaries of the wing that stretches behind Fareeha's back. The wing radiates an impossible heat and it's all Fareeha can do to resist sinking into its embrace.

"So," Angela starts casually, snapping Fareeha out of her thoughts, "when did you notice?"

Fareeha side-eyes Angela's expectant expression warily. "Early."

"Ah, so earlier than you want to admit. Okay, is this all the time?"

"No, of course not!" Fareeha's voice jumps an octave as Angela leisurely drags the edge of her wing over her other arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"Are you sure?"

"I have self control!"

"Really? You're sure you don't just… catch a glimpse and want to be underneath me?"

Fareeha swallows, as the mental image stokes the fire in her belly. "...Sometimes."

"Why didn't you ask me to?"

"It's w-"

"Don't say weird. _That_ will offend me."

"-orth mentioning," Fareeha veers smoothly, "that you are still hellbent on avoiding talking about how you got the wings in the first place. Seemed way too close."

Angela's in-charge act drops for just a moment, but then she shrugs and smiles and it returns. "Fair enough. Are you enjoying this?"

"Yes, Angela," Fareeha nods quickly, relaxing into the ensuing kiss and whining when Angela pulls away. She settles back into Fareeha's lap, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought.

"Do you ever fantasize about specifics?"

"...Yes."

Angela bites her lip but that does nothing to hide the smug grin spreading across her face. "Tell me one of your fantasies, Fareeha."

Fareeha groans. If her hands weren't full of her devilish girlfriend, she would hide her face. Is it worth using her safe word to get out of admitting this? 

_Not even close._

"You pin me down," Fareeha mumbles.

"Can't hear you, darling," Angela sing-songs, wicked tone fully returned. 

Fareeha repeats it louder and falls silent, hoping it's enough.

No such luck. Angela places a single finger on Fareeha's jaw and pushes until she has to look at her. "Tell me the rest."

"You pin me down… to the bed. With your wings." Fareeha shivers as Angela shifts slowly, never once breaking her searing gaze. Fareeha has to look up as she draws herself up on her knees, straddling her lap. Her pulse jumps, hot and erratic, just under the surface of her skin as Angela slides her cool hands up either side of her bare neck. Fareeha swallows hard, feeling the motion against Angela's thumbs.

Angela arches an eyebrow, waiting.

Eyelids fluttering shut for just a moment, Fareeha continues, "You edge me until I'm crying and begging for it but you keep me from touching myself or getting away."

"Is that everything?" 

_Is it?_

_Quivering, moaning and helpless, tears building while Ange has her way with me, trapped underneath her wings and at her mercy, begging for release and finally coming on her patient fingers after what seems like years…_

"Well, _usually,_ " Fareeha hesitates, knowing what she's setting herself up for and shuddering in anticipation, "you let me come eventually."

"Duly noted." Angela leans in close, breathing lightly over the sensitive skin behind Fareeha's ear. "Do you want that now?"

"More than anything," Fareeha whispers hoarsely, dizzy with desire. It's impossible to tell whose pulse is racing faster, even with Angela's sternum pressed to her bare skin and her own heartbeat roaring in her ears.

Angela leans back, fluttering her wings with delight. She grins, blue eyes shining with candle light, excitement, and mischief, as she pulls Fareeha in for a lingering kiss.

"Then I'll see what I can do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /)///////////////(\  
> Hope you enjoyed that!


	2. a priori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prologue.  
> Just how did Angela figure out Fareeha's kink without asking?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [no smut, only sexy thoughts]

Angela Ziegler is no stranger to the unusual.

In fact, she might even go so far to say she dealt exclusively in the sort of things that turned heads and raised eyebrows. In the unknown, Angela only sees a challenge, a chance to make “maybe one day” happen today.

That’s what makes it so easy to convince the public to dismiss Dr. Ziegler's wings as yet another bio-mechanical model built to mimic the natural world. When Winston asked how she would explain her enormous, pale bird wings to the public, the explanation rolled off her tongue with little thought.

“They’re a prototype, utilizing a natural avian structure as a more effective method of controlled flight. Impractical for distribution as of yet, but I’m full-time testing them as a Valkyrie alternative,” Angela had said quickly, before adding with a wry smile, “You might even call it a flight of fancy.”

If anything, Angela is more than capable of flying beneath various bullshit radars. Privately, she knew they were more trouble than they were worth, but by _god,_ did she try to make them worth something. For as many minutes she joy-flew, she spent thrice as much training to make sure her new limbs were an asset, not a liability. The exhaustion, ache, and burn was worth that much, even if Satya and Fareeha always gave her that _look_ after hours of endurance training.

Nothing mattered as much as making the most out of the weirdest mistake ever made.

In the lab and in the field, her wings provided much of their own justification without too much prompting: limb replacement therapy research and a Valkyrie flight alternative respectively. In personal life, Angela had to admit that having two fluffy, personal dopamine factories was helpful, to say the least. And in the bedroom, two very sensitive and inaccessible spots make fooling around with Fareeha something special.

The perks Angela's wings provided to their owner were well documented. To others, they were soft and fluffy pillows, fidgets, and blankets. That was their extent, or so she'd thought.

The first time she catches Fareeha _looking_ is a surprise, to say the least.

When he's on base, Genji makes for a fun sparring partner. He’s fast, twice as agile, and one of the few people who can actually engage her while she’s in the air. He’s her first choice when it comes to close-quarter drills because of this and the fact that her old friend never holds back.

This morning, Angela makes her goal to escape him long enough to take off successfully. Genji isn't above grappling, swatting, and disabling her wings; they're fair game just like the rest of her. After several failed attempts at getting airborne, Angela lashes out. 

She extends a wing and sweeps him off his feet in frustration.

Genji lands with an _oof,_ flat out on the mat in surprise. Angela stands over him, wings flared and chest heaving with effort. Unfazed by her glare, Genji just chuckles.

“Angela, that was _good._ You may get away yet.”

“I wasn’t trying- Oh. _Verdammt._ ” Angela offers him a hand. “I suppose I missed my chance there.”

“Giving into your anger only helps if it’s on purpose.” Genji accepts her hand and allows her to haul him to his feet. Then he turns, eyebrows raised. “Fareeha, do you have notes to offer?”

Angela follows his gaze, surprised to find Fareeha gaping. Now that the attention is on her, she shuts her mouth and squeaks, “No! Sorry, it just looked like that hurt. I need to get uh, another towel?”

Then she tosses a little salute and walks clear out of the gym, leaving Lena without a sparring partner. Lena has the grace to only burst into laughter once she's gone, though it isn’t until much later that Angela understands why.

Lying awake in bed that night, Angela replays the day in her head, near-perfect memory lending itself to a movie-like recall.

 _Why did Fareeha leave so suddenly? Was she scared? Repulsed? No, surely Lena wouldn’t have laughed so much… Why_ was _Lena laughing?_

Angela caresses Fareeha’s face. Her breathing stutters a little bit and she grumbles in her sleep; she is fast asleep and would likely remain that way until morning. If there were any answers to be found, she wouldn't be much help.

_She sounded… embarrassed. If there were anyone to be embarrassed, it would have been Genji for letting me get the drop on him. What was so special about that?_

That moment is crystal. Genji had caught and twisted her leg while she was in an upstroke, bringing her down with a cry of pain. She’d folded her wings in tight defensively and, in a flash of irritation, swept out the one closest to Genji before springing back to her feet. Pretty and delicate as the wings may seem, the solid muscle and bone easily knocked his legs out from under him and-

_I used my wings. Why would she be embarrassed about that?_

With a wide-eyed and gaping expression, Fareeha paused everything to stare.

_Not at Genji._

_At me._

_At… my wings._

_Embarrassed, left the room, didn’t see her again until nearly lunch when she laughed it off…_

Angela blinks, staring at her fiancée's peaceful expression.

_Why was Lena… laughing? What else makes Lena laugh that hard? What did she see that I didn't? Why did that embarrass Fareeha so much?_

_Wait…_

_Does Fareeha get turned on by my_ wings, _of all things?_ Angela thinks for a moment, heat flooding her cheeks. She pulls her hand back and nibbles her lip. _Is she into that?_

Her breath catches in her throat as she considers.

 _...Am_ I _into that?_

Curious, Angela begins to experiment.

She’s nothing if not cautious. Nothing she does is either highly inappropriate or so obvious that Fareeha would pick up on what she's doing.

First, Angela begins to use her wings more actively in sparring, pushing herself to ignore the fear of them being broken and utilize their impressive strength. She fights without restraint, taking on anyone from Jesse to Aleks; experimenting aside, Angela gains invaluable training for the field. As expected, Fareeha excuses herself abruptly more than once, sometimes not returning at all.

There was the Strawberry Incident in the kitchen. Angela almost felt _bad_ cornering Fareeha against the wall, but she wasn't mistaking the rush of her girlfriend's pulse or her flustered giggles. Not that she would ever be so bold in public, but the thought of pinning Fareeha to the wall excites her more than she cares to admit.

In private, she punctuates cuddling and otherwise uneventful lay-ins with flaunting her wings. Angela uses them to get Fareeha's attention, to pull her into hugs, and playfully caress her. She uses them as they’re meant to be used- extensions of herself- and not just tools to be put away when not in use. After all, one doesn’t exactly store their arms just because they’re not being used.

Eventually, this practice bleeds over to unconscious actions.

One afternoon, Fareeha barges into the med bay, getting all the way to Angela’s side before realizing she’s already tending to Hana. Apologizing, she turns to go.

Attention on her tablet, Angela reaches out with a wing and draws her back to her side, gently but firmly. “Ah, ah! If this was a friendly call, you’d text first. Sit.”

 _“Eep,_ okay, jeez,” Fareeha squeaks, having a seat on the nearest stool. 

Angela turns to look at her, too focused and concentrating on the scans on her tablet to quite realize what has just transpired. She pulls her wing back in tightly and connects Fareeha’s intense examination of her lap to the unconscious movements of her wing.

She bites back a smile and tucks her observations away for later.

“Hey Angie, when are you gonna get a second set of wings?” Hana giggles. “So we can start calling you Doc Ock?”

 _Now_ embarrassed, Angela pins her wings and glares at Hana. “I will be doing no such thing. You have some nerve to tease. You do know I can tell you haven’t been wearing your wrist braces, don’t you?”

By the time that Angela’s finished arguing with Hana about curbing her self-destructive habits and discharged her, Fareeha has fallen asleep on a nearby counter. 

Angela looks her over, trying to assess what might have been the reason for her visit. Nothing sticks out, so she reaches over to gently rouse her fiancée.

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” Fareeha mumbles, sleepily looking up at Angela.

“I know, _liebling,_ but I would like to know what happened.” 

Fareeha winces and tucks her hair behind her ear. “The Raptora shot a wall at point-blank range during maintenance. Wasn’t wearing ear plugs.”

“Ears still ringing?” Angela is already reaching for her otoscope. Fareeha hums in confirmation, twisting so her ear is closer to Angela. A small trail of dried blood is the only outward indication of injury. Otoscopic investigation reveals ruptured eardrums.

Fareeha is quiet as Angela selects the appropriate nanite strain and delivery attachment. It’s only after she’s sprayed a small amount of nanite-laden mist into each ear that she speaks again.

“Thanks, doc. Don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“You’d be alright. For a little while at least.” Angela smiles, cleaning her instruments. Fareeha lifts off the stool and presses a kiss to her cheek. Said kiss turns into a multitude of raspberries and they both go down in a fit of giggles.

* * *

After about two weeks of careful planning and observation, Angela finally decides to do something about her discovery. 

“Fareeha,” Angela says while laying in bed, watching Fareeha get ready for her morning run. The view is, as always, exquisite. “About our _date_ on Friday?”

Fareeha catches on to her tone immediately and gives Angela her full attention. “Yes?”

“I know we said more of a play-by-ear, but would you consider allowing me to plan and lead?”

If she’s suspicious of a change being made three whole days in advance, she doesn’t show it. Fareeha’s excited grin warms Angela’s heart. “Sounds fun. Do I get any hints?”

“Of course not.” Angela sticks her tongue out. “Just trust that I know what you like.”

“You _are_ pretty good at that.” Fareeha leaves for her run shortly after, refraining from questions as requested.

Alone in the bedroom, Angela can finally set her plan in motion.

First, she checks that Lúcio and Zenyatta are still okay with being on medical duty on Friday afternoon. She throws herself into her research to make up for the lost time. In her own bedroom, she rummages through her nighties and intimates until she finds the perfect set. In her office, she practices in the mirror until every flick, flutter, and flap of her wings is perfect and effortless. 

The most important step, however, is asking Satya for help with her wings. On Thursday morning, she sends Satya a quick text.

_Good morning, Satya. Would you be able to help me preen my wings tomorrow? **6:22 am** _

_**6:25 am** i assume this is to be kept secret from fareeha? _

_**6:25 am** which is why you are texting me _

_**6:26 am** instead of asking over breakfast in thirty minutes? _

Angela snorts softly. _Perceptive as ever._

_Yes please. I'd like them to be perfect for our date tomorrow evening and there's some spots I can't reach. **6:28am** _

_**6:30 am** i am aware. it would be my pleasure to help you get ready. _

All too soon the time comes. Already bathed and dressed for the occasion beneath her blue linen romper, Angela arrives at Satya's room a few minutes after one o'clock in the afternoon.

Satya opens the door, preen brush in hand. In the center of her room sits a chair. It's similar to a massage chair with two key additions: long angled platforms on which her wings can rest.

"You really spared no expense, Satya, goodness."

"It did not cost me anything," Satya says with a smile and a flourish of hard light crystals from the well in her palm. "I only wanted to make sure this wouldn't be an undue stress on your wings. Since you are about to go on a date after all. Face me first please."

Angela sits as asked and spreads her wings onto the platforms, exposing her inner coverts.

"Angela, relax," Satya giggles. "You're puffing."

She is indeed. Angela closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, willing her feathers to deflate. While her eyes are still closed, soft music begins to play. Angela raises an eyebrow at Satya; the architech shrugs.

“Until I get the feathers aligned, fluffing will just mess them up more. Therefore, relaxing music.”

"That's nice," Angela murmurs as Satya conjures a stool to sit on and begins to use the preen brush on her left wing. "Thank you again, Satya."

"Don't thank me quite yet. I have never allopreened you for such a purpose before. After all, you did want them to be _perfect."_

"I trust you," Angela twists her hands in her lap. It is, without question a true statement. "And I owe you one, one for each wing, at least. Say the word and it's yours."

Satya slides the stool over to reach further down the wing. It's a moment before she looks at Angela and even more than that before she says anything.

"I can’t think of anything right now, but I’ll keep it in mind.” Satya continues to preen and follow up with her deft fingers. The motions are soothing but Angela is far too antsy to be lulled into sleep. The music ebbs and flows, filling the room.

“Can I help at _all?”_

“You can stop squirming!”

Angela grins but does try to hold her wings still. “See anything interesting?”

“I can tell when you last flew, when you last showered, and in what order.” Satya shoots her a sly smile. “And what you had for breakfast.”

“Wait, that last part doesn’t count! You were at breakfast!”

Satya laughs, shifting down toward the end of her wings. _“Also_ that you seem terribly nervous for a date with your _fiancée."_

"Well, you know me, always worried that I'll get something wrong."

"Even with your soon-to-be wife?"

 _"Especially_ with my soon-to-be wife." Angela nibbles her lip. "But it'll work out."

Satya hums. "That it will."

“Satya?” Angela hedges, very careful to not think about exactly _how_ she wants this night to work out.

“Hm?”

“Have you ever watched a movie and just _hated_ it because it’s unrealistic?” Angela blurts, lamenting her lack of a smooth transition. If Satya realizes she’s deliberately and badly changing the subject, the only sign is a brief smile.

“Only if the movie was not intended to be so. Shall I tell you my least favorite?”

“I’d love to hear you rip it apart,” Angela says with an honest smile, because no matter what she’s planning on later, the present is no less cherished.

Satya’s movie of choice happens to be a pre-crisis apocalyptic thriller that Angela’s also seen. Between Satya’s gleeful explanations of bad CGI and Angela’s dissection of the pandemic subplot, it’s difficult to stay still while they tear into the B-list film. Nonetheless, Satya manages to allopreen both sides of both wings, even if Angela gets playfully swatted at for her inability to stay still. Even with the inevitable cull of a few badly damaged feathers, the process is pleasant overall.

“I do believe I have outdone myself here,” Satya says, handing Angela her phone back. Angela flicks through the pictures of her wings from the back.

“I don’t think they’ve ever looked this good before, Satya. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Angela takes Satya’s hand in both of hers, grinning wide.

“Ah, it’s no trouble,” Satya chuckles, bemused. “I’m sure Fareeha will love them.” 

Angela stops short, suddenly drawn back to the purpose of the last two hours.

_Oh, she will. I’m sure of that._

“You know what? You’re right, Satya. I owe you a million favors.”

“I thought it was two?” Satya asks but Angela’s already halfway to the door, having seen how little time she has left before Fareeha is due to arrive. “Don’t bump into anything, Angela!”

“Two million works, too!” Angela calls over her shoulder. If not for the close proximity of Fareeha’s room, she would fly there for how excited she is.

_I will make this absolutely perfect for her._

* * *

Once in their room, Angela double checks that Fareeha is not there. A glance at her phone tells her she has a little less than an hour to get the last few details in place. 

Confident that most of the team is enjoying the summer evening, she flits between her room, where her supplies are hidden, and Fareeha’s. Decorating calms her nerves and tames her excitement, if only for a little bit. Candle flames flicker and rose petals stir in the fan’s wind. She sends her final text to Fareeha and breathes a sigh of contentment. 

Angela pulls a brush through her hair, forgoing the usual ponytail for a waterfall of golden silk on her shoulders. Then she slips out of her romper, hanging the linen garment in the closet. Her bralette and briefs are simple cream lace, selected to match her wings. Though if she’s right about the depth of Fareeha’s _interest_ , there’s a good chance she won’t even notice what Angela’s wearing.

Angela fans her wings slowly and climbs onto the bed, stretching out along its foot.

_Patience._

Angela bites her lip, glancing at the bedside clock. Only a few more minutes now.

_I’m going to have to drag it out of her, but that’s okay._

Her wings puff with anticipation; she forces them to settle into their sleekest form and extends them halfway along the bed edge. Her wings are truly wondrous. At times, they paint a portrait of innocence. At others, they allow her to master the skies, to be an ace of the winds. 

Right now, her wings are a perfect blend of grace and power.

The door clicks as it unlocks from the outside.

Angela exhales quietly, straightens her back, and flicks her wings one last time.

 _It’s okay to lie a little, Fareeha,_ Angela thinks as she looks over her shoulder and watches her fiancée go wide-eyed at her presentation. _But I hope you realize…_

_I already know the truth._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have ideas for the 3rd chapter and it can be summed up as 'on god, i will earn that E rating in short order'

**Author's Note:**

> To be explicitly clear, no one has permission to continue this. I stopped it where I wanted and should I choose to continue, it will be on my own terms.
> 
> ("But what about Satya?" calls out a quiet voice. I peek out between my fingers and groan, "That one's over 11k, nearly two years in the making, and it's still not done.")


End file.
